Incidents just seem to follow me whenever I travel. They aren't bad things that happen, just, well....things. This time I had to fly to Atlanta for a television thing. I was barely gone for 24 hours, but a day without Blair and my babies feels like years. But that's not what I was going to talk about.
First, the flight out.
I was so careful to wear shoes I could slip on and off easily.
I was astute about packing my liquids in a quart-sized plastic bag.
And I wore a top with metal grommets on it!!!
I set off the metal detector, then had to have a full body scan. I was later told that it was a machine that could see through clothes. Is that right? Because if it is, I wasn't sucking in at the time. Then came the cherry on top and I got the pat down! She didn't find anything (especially around the chest area).
So I survived the flight out to Atlanta.
Now for the flight back home.
I made it to the gate just as they were closing the door. When I ran on the plane everyone was just staring at me like, "oh, so YOU are the person we had to wait on...." It didn't feel very good.
Then came the real adventure. I was sitting by this guy and, as usual, I started talking about something stupid. I took a clue after he ordered his third scotch that I should probably just leave him alone and get some sleep (I had woken up at 4:30 that morning). I leaned over toward the window and fell asleep. It was that weird, dreamy state of sleep where you're kind of in and out. Anyway, I dreamed that a big spider fell down from the luggage compartment and landed on the top of my head. I immediately flew into convulsuions, knocking my two books, my notebook, and my cup of coffee out of my lap and all over the floor (and the man next to me).
He then ordered his fourth scotch.